Into the Darkness
by BlackBandit111
Summary: Everybody lives AU. Bilbo Baggins is walking alone when he finds himself lost in one of the isolated hallways of Erebor; tripping, he manages to tumble into an abandoned mineshaft, alone in the dark. Hobbits cannot survive without sunlight, and with no one looking for him, the hobbit is racing against time and trying to outrun the darkness. No slash. H/c.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello, Hobbit archive! I...was going to not post this yet. But then I couldn't just not post it because I'M SUPER DUPER EXCITED TO SHARE IT! Alright, here we go. Thanks for all the support with When Things Go Awry and I hope you like Into the Darkness just as much!**_

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Bilbo Baggins woke one morning and realized that he was content.

It was not one of those life altering experiences that one may have as though waking from a dream into reality and realizing that reality has been kind; nor was it a day that was particularly exceptional- in fact, it had been pouring outside and relatively dark in the mountain, the many torches still failing to banish all the shadows. Still, Bilbo Baggins woke with a languid stretch and a drowsy yawn, and the true peace that was in his heart dawned on him like the sun may break over the caps of the Misty Mountains. Nothing had coaxed this natural epiphany, but Bilbo found himself glad for it, and the truth of the matter only really sank in when the princes had come bounding into his rooms, screaming at the top of their lungs, "BILBO! BILBO! GUESS WHAT WE GET TO DO TODAY?!"

As he gazed at the Crown Prince of Erebor and the Prince Regent, the feeling blossoming in his chest was undeniable, and he found himself chuckling at their antics. "What could Thorin possibly be letting you two get into now?" He asked, only half- humorous. The King Under the Mountain was rarely the type to restrict many things, but when he did, it was for good reason. The Princes' faces revealed all and the expressions read impishness, meaning they had just been provided access to something that had been denied them before. He was debating whether to be worried or not when Kili spoke again, a childlike lilt to his voice from excitement.

"We finally get to go exploring the lower mineshafts!" Kili exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his eyes lit up and a beaming smile upon his lips. "That means we get first licks at whatever's down there- say Fili, d'you expect there'll be fire-drake droppings down there?" Kili's nose wrinkled.

Fili's face scrunched in his own dismay, and he cast his younger brother a dark look. "Aw, come on, Ki, did you have say something like that? That killed the excitement," but in truth the boys only appeared to be more eager, both their eyes glinting. "Are you coming, Bilbo?"

Bilbo, still half asleep as it was, gave a couple slow blinks and raised a fist to rub at his eyes. Kili went and tapped him on the forehead to gain his attention, and the slightly foggy hazel eyes found Kili's puppy brown. "Please?"

Bilbo took a deep breath, more aware of what going on around him now. "Mmmm, I dunno," he half-slurred. He glanced around, pushing back the blankets and shivering as his cozy cocoon of warmth was compromised by the first cold draft. "Does Thorin need me for any negotiations or anything today?"

Kili gave a little whine, and the image of a froliky puppy grew. "Who cares about that stuff," he muttered, turning huge doe eyes to the hobbit, who already felt his resolve wavering. "_Pleeeeaaaaase_, Bilbo?"

Eru, how old was Kili again?

He huffed. "Fine," he told them, and Fili grinned as Kili whooped with joy, jumping into the air. "But," he said, holding up a finger, "if Thorin does need me today, I'm not coming. You're not going, either, now that I think of it; Eru knows what you two could get into down there…"

Kili's eyes twinkled as he and his brother not-so-discreetly made their way to the door. "Who, us?" Fili asked, voice light and face innocent, but his eyes shone with mischief. "Never, Bilbo."

Before the hobbit could think of a response, both princes were gone.

Bilbo gave another half-hearted huff, resisting the urge to smile. _The death of me, those boys…_

Sliding completely out of bed and doing his best to contain the flinch that came from the cold floors, Bilbo went about dressing himself for the day, pulling off his nightgown and throwing on his shirt, breaches, and braces, pulling on his waistcoat.

Normally he would have gone sans the waistcoat (as he only wore it when Thorin was having official meetings or peace negotiations that Bilbo was required to attend) but the day was inexplicably chilly. The long winter had already passed and Erebor was well on its way to a hearty spring, its kingdom beginning to prosper once more. Tentative trade had started between Laketown, Dale and Erebor, and even Thranduil was willing to share in the Mountain's riches. Things were still rough around the edges with Thorin and the Elvenking, but the King Under the Mountain was now able to resist calling the elves 'tree shaggers' until they'd gone, so Bilbo saw this an accomplishment.

Truly, Bilbo didn't need to be present for these negotiations, but both Thranduil and Bard had refused to come to a resolution unless the hobbit was attending as well, something Bilbo was unsure whether to be flattered by or annoyed by. He did appreciate the concern (as icy as it was from Thranduil, it was concern) for his wellbeing, but the gold-sickness had completely left The King Under the Mountain, leaving Thorin in its place. The Arkenstone business was rarely mentioned, both for Bilbo's sake and Thorin's pride, and Bilbo was glad, even if there was often an underlying tension in the group that shouldn't have been there.

Nevertheless, repairs were underway and the dwarves from the Iron Hills were doing spectacular jobs. The throne room had been completely cleared out and that was where most of the dwarves were camping as the chamber rooms had yet to be deemed safe; the gates were fully repaired and the wall was completely rebuilt (something that had become a priority after _The Battle_) and in truth, more of Erebor was fixed than it was broken. Smaug had left much desolation in his wake, but slowly, as a whole team, the dwarves, men, and elves were turning Erebor back into the shining city it once was.

As for the little hobbit residing in Erebor, he was working outside the gates, on the landscape. Few people were very concerned for the burnt and dried out earth, as there were plenty of goods being sent from Dale, Laketown and Mirkwood, but Bilbo knew himself that those luxuries would not last. He had seldom spoken to Thorin about his planting and growing, knowing that the newly crowned king had enough on his mind. In the long run Bilbo knew that what he was investing in would be worth it, and as he strode towards the parapets _(those terrible parapets that Thorin is holding him over, staring into his eyes with a deranged glint in his own blown wide sapphire, not wholly blue anymore but tinted with a blackness that seems to come from Thorin's very soul; those eyes look into Bilbo's heart, and the hand squeezes so tight around his neck that Bilbo feels himself turning blue)_ and past the front gates, he stamped down the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. Taking a few deep breaths through his nose, Bilbo continued, locking away his emotions again. He'd deal with them later. Right now, he'd do what he was good at.

As he planted another carrot and tipped it a bit of water, he wiped his forehead on the back of his hand, a smiling gracing his cracked lips as the rain, which had let up for a little while, began again, furiously pounding on his back. Picking up his spade, Bilbo continued digging and planting, thinking to himself, _oh, if the Company could see me now- a grocer indeed!_

Finally the rain became too much and, not wanting to actually manage to catch his death, Bilbo ducked back into Erebor, hastily removing his sopping waistcoat. He ran his hands absently through his soaked curls to push them away from his face _(they were getting long, he should really cut them)_ he padded back to his rooms for a change, glancing at the time. It was only ten past eleven in the morning, and Bilbo was reminded of his hunger when his stomach growled helpfully.

After fetching himself elevenses and eating until he was full, Bilbo brushed the crumbs from his fingers and jacket and stood, stretching. Although having just dug in the earth, he wasn't altogether that muddy, so he opted for a change in breeches instead of a bath. Shutting the door once he was in the hallway, he strode towards the negotiation room a few doors over, searching for Thorin.

Knocking gently and hearing the uttered "enter", Bilbo smoothly turned to knob and poked his head in. "Your Majesty," he said, and Thorin's eyes darted upwards towards him from the paper they had been scanning. His lips pursed with that underlying tension that always appeared whenever Bilbo and he were in the same room, but he responded nonetheless.

"Yes, Halfling? What?"

Bilbo cleared his throat resisting the urge to wring his hands. Damn that dwarf and his ability to stare someone down! "I...was just...going to go exploring with Fili and Kili in the lower mineshafts and wanted to inform you in case you had any negotiations scheduled if you're busy I understand I can come back later but if something is scheduled and I must attend then that's- that's fine, too," he breathed, eyes blown wide.

The corner of Thorin's lip was turned upwards slightly, but to Bilbo it could have been full out laughter. "I do not require your presence today, Hobbit. You are free to do with your time what you will," Thorin replied, and Bilbo squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath.

"I- right, right, very...right. Yes." He paused, swallowing, and shifted. "Well if that's it- I mean that's it from me, anyway, I obviously don't- hum- know about you, but...hum..yep. Okay. Thanks."

He scrambled from the room before he had a chance to hear Thorin's remark, heart thudding painfully within his chest. He gulped like a man who had just nearly drowned, adam's apple bobbing as he gasped for breath. He shut his eyes, letting his head thud against the wall he was leaning on_. Oh, stupid, stupid hobbit! _He berated himself._ Thorin has forgiven you for the Arkenstone and you've forgiven him for the parapet incident. There's no need to be so afraid, you silly old Baggins_.

He straightened, pulling the end of the jacket smooth and sniffing. _(Thorin's fingers are tight around his windpipe and Bilbo is seeing stars- this is it, this is the end, he thinks, and tears gather in his rapidly darkening vision- he wheezes for breath and it whistles as it tries to fit past his closing airway-)_

"Stop it!" Jumping at the echoed shout, he realized belatedly that it had been him, and he had startled himself out of his own flashback. "Stop it," he repeated, albeit calmer than the first time. "Just...enough. Enough." He paused, taking another shuddering breath. "Enough."

He spun on his heel, fists clenched, brainstorming all the places his two impish prince friends could be plotting in.

He didn't deny the sudden instinct, breaking out into a sprint. He didn't look back; had he done so, he would have seen concerned sapphire eyes following him.

Finding his two exploring companions was not as hard as he had originally thought, having had the good sense to check his rooms also (because oftentimes Fili and Kili saw the practical side of their joking and happened to psyche out the person who was looking for them by being obvious). Grinning as he approached them and doing his very best to force back the shadows advancing on his good mood, he said, "Alright! All clear. Do you have any supplies?'

Beaming triumphantly, both princes held up well-packed travel bags, slinging them over their shoulders. "There's plenty of water in three skins for each of us, snacks, matches, more matches, extra clothing, and a spare set of small knives. We're set. And we're bringing our swords, just in case," Fili rattled off, and Bilbo nodded as he went about his room, snatching things out of drawers and from under his bed.

His room was luxurious and perhaps designed to look a little like Bag End in the Shire; the woodsy, cozy colors remained the same, and the furniture had been picked to match the trimming of the room, which was a dark mahogany. The light, grass green coloring of the walls gave the room a very airy and light feel despite the predicted lack of windows, and the soft white and brown rugs that had been lay down for carpeting made being a barefoot hobbit bearable in the cold floored kingdom. There was a fireplace with a mantle (which upon it held a few candlesticks, a drawing of Bilbo that Ori had done, a carving of a dragon from Bofur and, of course, his trusty ring).

Surrounding the fireplace were a couple armchairs and a table, and framing the bed were nightstands. Towards the end of the huge four-poster bed was a chest, filled with various things that Bilbo had picked up and taken from the quest, and this included Sting, which was never far; there was also a wardrobe in the corner of the room holding extra clothing (provided from Erebor's vast clothing selection) and an adjoining bathroom that was equally as lovely.

Bilbo packed all of the suggested items, taking his water skin from Kili's pack before going to unclasp the chest and fetch Sting. After a moment's consideration, he also went and got his ring, too, placing it in his pocket. Who knew what would happen down there; perhaps his ring may be of use.

"All set?" Fili asked, and at Bilbo's nod, smiled. Setting off, they made their way through the maze of Erebor's halls, the princes never faltering for direction as they led the hobbit deeper into the mountain. Bilbo looked around wide eyed, trying to soak in as much as once. Fili was talking.

"These were the halls of our forefathers," he said, his voice hushed as he, too, sensed the heaviness of the atmosphere. "Uncle says that the day Smaug attacked was the darkest day of Dwarven history," he recalled, his voice far off and his eyes distant as he pictured it. "Remember Uncle's face, Ki? Whenever he was saying something like that?"

Kili nodded, his face serious and dark eyes glinting in the torchlight, as the halls were still illuminated. "It was so…dark. Like his very heart was…" But the young Prince shook his head, unable to continue. Bilbo swallowed and fought back his clipped response that Thorin always had a dark expression on his face, instead reaching into his pack and searching around for matches, as the torches were seldom and far apart down here, and he was beginning to stumble.

Finding them, he struck one and grabbed his own stick from Kili's available bag, lighting it. Holding it high as he walked, he bathed the passage in a bright and cheerful warm light, banishing the shadows that stalked them from the corners. Kili and Fili seemed calmer for it, and the tense atmosphere disapparated, leaving only slight trepidation of the unknown and the thirst for another adventure.

Further down into the mountain the torches faded completely, but the torch Bilbo had lit was burning brightly and faithfully, so the two brothers struck up a conversation with their Burglar. "So Bilbo, how've you been? Has Uncle been treated you fairly? What of the rest of the Company? We've been so busy with our supposed Princely duties that we've not seen them for a while."

Kili muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Princely duties- more like a cage."

Bilbo told them of his life in the Lonely Mountain, which in fact wasn't all that interesting. On Thorin's near death bed he had pardoned the little hobbit (and the hobbit had forgiven Thorin in that moment) and so Bilbo had been provided free rein of the kingdom (at least, all the places it was deemed safe). He told them of his garden and his planting in the hopes the terrace parts of the Lonely Mountain were still untouched (and unfortunately they were still blocked off).

But he still didn't tell them about his Secret, the Secret all hobbits were to keep until death (even from Gandalf, who knew more about the little folk than anyone in perhaps all of Middle Earth). Hobbits guarded this terrible Secret more than they guarded their mushrooms, and this was saying a lot.

There was a reason that the hobbit holes had so many windows; a reason hobbits lived in a sunny meadow. A reason that most everything was outdoors, and a reason that hobbits were so in-tune with nature.

Hobbits couldn't survive without the sun. They needed it like plants needed water; it was a part of their blood, their lives, their soul. A hobbit without sun could wither like a flower in winter. Some could say that hobbits were photosynthetic, but in reality, it truly was just one of the phenomenons that one could not explain away nor understand. It was simply a part of what hobbits were.

They guarded this Secret close to their hearts, Bilbo especially. He had gotten very close in the tight and sunless halls of the Elvenking's kingdom in Mirkwood. Very close. Too close. He had been sick and weary for weeks afterwards, and only walking about in the sun had been the cure. As soon as he seemed healthy, however, he was sent into a mountain- a sunless mountain- to kill a dragon, then the celebrations began and the front doors were sealed. The main terraces were still accessible, though, and he had spent many a day there relaxing with Fili and Kili, who felt not the pull of the gold but the confusion of Bilbo, who could not understand the sudden fascination in the other dwarves for the riches in the treasury.

Fili and Kili chattered about this and that- training with Dwalin (who had become Captain of the Dwarven Guard), attending the council meetings (which were, indeed, very sparse, due to the fact that many of the dwarrows were still pouring in from Ered Luin and the Iron Hills), and about the Company in general, childish excitement seeping away while walking through the extremely long and dark passage. Bilbo listened carefully, the clenching in his chest reminding him all too well of his own regret at not seeing his friends as often as usual.

They came to a wide bridge over a dark chasm, which they crossed with care, and then into a large chamber of glittering emerald, finding the remnants of dwarves who must have hid here from Smaug and starved. Kili, Fili, and Bilbo went about collecting weapons and looking for some form of IDs, although it did not truly matter and they would be honored correctly anyway. A sword was placed in each limp, skeletal hand before the companions were satisfied enough to continue on their ways.

Soon enough it was too black to see anything with only the one torch, and Fili and Kili lit their own, holding them high above their heads. The shadows raced across the floor and jumped out at the three friends from within dark corners, where the renewing light had not reached the desolation of abandonment in the mountain.

The air grew stuffy and stale, and Bilbo found it increasingly hard to breath. He only realized his hands were shaking because of the sudden wobbling of the light cast on the ground.

Fili and Kili were still chatting about this and that, oblivious to their Burglar's plight. Bilbo, however, only grew more aware of the very fact that he definitely was having trouble breathing now, and so he interrupted, "Fili, Kili, I'm going to go back up. The air...it's not...It's hard to breath down here for me," he finished lamely, trying to contain the heaving of his chest as his lungs desperately tried to get air.

Immediately silent, the boys' faces shifted to those of concern and worry. "All right, Bilbo- you're sure you'll be alright?"

After Bilbo's reassuring smile, Fili relented. "See you later, Bilbo," he trilled, and Kili followed suit. With a tight lipped and controlled smile, he turned and started back the way they came, waving his torch every now and then to banish the sudden shudder that ran up his spine. There was nothing here, Bilbo knew, but it was still possible for something to attack him. Not that he believed in ghosts, of course…

However, he'd definitely seen stranger things…

A gust of wind blustered past, throwing Bilbo off balance- he threw a foot out to the side but found nothing but air- _He's falling, Thorin has let go, his grip has slipped or else he's just merciful enough to let Bilbo out of his misery- he's falling and someone is calling for him-_

He lost himself to the blackness, the screaming of his name echoing in his own ears.

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**_...Yep. Next update is Tuesday, May 12th, and thanks for reading! Leave me a comment on your thoughts!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hello fanfictioners of the Hobbit fandom! Here's the next installment of Into the Darkness! Thank you for all of the favorites, the feedback, and the followers, I appreciate it all! Disclaimer: Do not own characters, only the plotline. J.R.R Tolkien and Mr. Peter Jackson own everything else, movie references or characters. Thanks and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**_

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Bilbo Baggins woke one morning and realized that he hurt. All over.

His body was one huge throb, swaying and pulsing like he was on a ship, or perhaps on those eagle's wings again- where was he? Where was the Company? Last he checked it was dawn; why was it so dark?

Everything suddenly snapped into place and Bilbo gasped, shooting into a sitting position. Pain exploded in his leg, back and right shoulder, and the drumming inside his skull grew to improbable volumes, making Bilbo cover his ears against the noise in his own head. Blinded, he groped around for at least a ledge or a wall or something to hang onto while he recomposed himself and got his bearings, but found empty air. He was definitely sitting on something rock; the coldness seeping into his bones proved as much.

Taking a couple steady deep breaths, he gently prodded at his own limbs, discovering that there was some sort of stickiness running down the length of his shin from his knee (most likely blood, but of course, Bilbo didn't want to jump to conclusions). Along with the sticky liquid Bilbo found a deep gash in the side of his leg, parallel to his knee, but wasn't sure whether to be grateful or wary that it didn't hurt all that much.

He also found upon inspection his ribs hurt when they expanded as he breathed, and were definitely bruised, if not fractured. His shoulder wasn't in any serious danger, but there were some sore places and definitely a few lacerations he'd have to deal with. His right arm was immobile when he tried to move it, and he wasn't sure if the numbness originating from the shoulder was due to cold or it was simply that his whole pain reception was thrown off kilter.

Because he was always just such a lucky hobbit, Bilbo figured a bit of both.

His head was an entirely different matter.

Bilbo knew about head injuries, he knew about amnesia, and he knew how dangerous a blow to the head could be; the effects could range from slight to life threatening, and the consequences could be dire to none. (Bifur was an excellent example for this, and with the amount of head knocking the dwarves did on a regular basis Bilbo figured it as good as anything else he may have come up with.) He skimmed his fingers over his temples, finding nothing but a few small, non-threatening cuts. He moved onto his curls, running his fingertips slowly over his scalp, determined to be thorough.

The cry that erupted from his mouth startled even Bilbo, and the jerk that the pain elicited made the headache worse. Clenching his eyes shut and tightening his jaw, Bilbo returned his hands to his head, prodding at the sore spot. There was a bit of blood around the wound, as far as he could tell, and a gash decidedly dangerous but not so deep as to be truly grievous.

Blinking as his eyes adjusted a bit more in the nonexistent light, he squinted as he could make out vague shapes around him. Rubbing his forehead absently, he gazed around blearily, tilting his head all the way back to stare up. There was no light for as far as he could see; no indication that he had even fallen anywhere at all. How far down was he? Was he dead?

He banished the last notion. He was in too much pain to be dead. As if proving the point, his head gave a particularly nasty twinge.

_Smaug's fire is red hot and burns terribly against the tough soles of his feet- he trips and he's flying but Thorin has swiftly grabbed him by the arm and righted him as they run for their lives-_

Huffing, he pushed himself slightly off the ground with his hands, and flopped back down when the world lurched. Shutting his eyes again, he swallowed desperately, really not wanting to throw up just now and see elevenses again.

Once he felt that the world had decided to stay in one place, he tried again, crawling forward to see if there happened to be a wall. He ran his hands and fingers along the slightly damp ground-

And nearly tumbled off his ledge at the sudden feeling of open air. He gasped and scrambled backwards, blinded by his sudden panic- no falling, no more falling, not again-

His back hit something solid and he could've sworn he felt his ribs crack at the impact, but it was a wall, and breathed a sigh. He was at least against one wall. That was something. Better than being suspended with nowhere to go in the dark.

Standing up was the next issue. Bilbo ran his hands along the wall, but it went on for further than he could feel out, so he figured that it was relatively safe to use and was one of his only options. It was this and stand, or crawl and fall.

Bilbo coughed, narrowing his eyes as his gaze turned upwards in an attempt to see from where he'd fallen, but as before, he had no luck. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed, slowly dragging himself up. His shoulder flared in protest and his knees wobbled dangerously as he leaned dependently upon the chasm wall.

He sucked in a few deep breaths, willing his heart to stop thudding so painfully against his ribcage. He only vaguely knew the size of his little ledge, and, knowing dwarven caverns, it could very well be a three hundred foot drop.

Letting that warning information sink in slightly, Bilbo gently prodded at the stone wall with his fingertips, feeling for footholds (although how he expected to climb in the dark was beyond him). The dark rock was damp, and Bilbo felt a hysterical rise from his chest and crawl its way up his throat. One thing was for sure: he wouldn't die of dehydration.

For some reason, this made him feel like laughing again.

There were no good footholds, he realized with a dawning sense of horror. He was stuck in pitch blackness. Fili and Kili wouldn't know that he had fallen, wouldn't even be suspicious as to where he'd gone, and neither would Thorin, and he so rarely saw the Company nowadays-

Eru, what he wouldn't do for a bit of torchlight right now-

_It's dark inside Erebor, the gold glittering in nonexistent light and somehow still shining when it's been motionless, barely touched for decades- but he doesn't have anything to carry any money in even though his pack is outside- he should have brought it in-_

Suddenly the world, which had been slowly tilting upside down, righted itself again. His pack. His pack with the food and the matches and- he remembered with a slight shiver- the extra clothing and blankets. His pack.

If he wanted to survive, he needed his pack.

Scrambling, he tripped forward and began vigorously scanning the ground with his hands, only halting when he once again reached the edges of the ledge that had saved his life.

_Scrambling, scrambling for the Arkenstone, which is right there but so is Smaug and Bilbo is so, so small in comparison-how can he win?_

After an immeasurable amount of time searching, Bilbo relented, sitting against the wall again with a small sob, hiding his face in his arms. He was bleeding, he was cold, and he was alone- and it was dark. He couldn't climb, he couldn't see, and he had no food.

His heart plummeted as he tried to count the things he did have and only came up with his life and a few wounds that would probably become life threatening if not treated.

He was helplessly, hopelessly alone in the dark.

With absolutely no sunlight to be had.

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Kili sent another glance over his shoulder, eyebrows knit together. "Fi, I really think we should go back. I'm almost positive I heard a shout," Kili pressed, but Fili continued on.

"Come on, Ki! It'll be like the time you thought you heard that noise in the guest rooms with the visiting ambassador, remember? And it just turned out he had knocked his knee while undressing for a bath?"

Kili shuddered. "Yeah, I remember. No, Fili, it won't be like that. I swear this time."

Fili, sobered once again by Kili's firm use of his full name, stopped to put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Alright, fine. If it will put your fears to rest, we can take a look. Lead the way!"

Kili turned on his heel and all but ran the way they had come, driven by the frantic beating of his heart. His feet pounded against the steady stone, a thrumming that signified the mountain was calling growing in his head. _I was right,_ he thought, and the mountain seemed to rumble in agreement._ I was right, there's something going on here. Something that's important. Something that shouldn't be happening._

He hadn't been paying attention to where he'd been going- his arms reeled backwards as his body folded- the light was doused on the ground- his foot caught on something and he threw his hands out-

But all he met was open air.

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_**Well, wasn't that stressful. I love me some angst. Thank you for reading, clicking, and just generally looking at my story! Please leave me a comment on your thoughts and see you next Tuesday! **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello again! Here's the next chapter, as promised! Thank you for all the feedback, reviews, favorites, and follows for this story! It really makes writing worthwhile to know you guys enjoy reading it. Honestly. So thanks to all my new reviewers annnnnnnd I hope you enjoy this chapter!**_

_**As a side note: watch?v= dE-vX9eU7hw **_

_**Remove the spaces and you have yourself the song Bilbo later sings. It's the tune, sung by Ernest Kinsolving and Kristoph Klover and on the album "The Starlit Jewel".**_

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"Milord? Milord?" A shake. "Milord, please wake up." Another shake.

Thorin peeled his eyes open slowly, blinking the sleep from them. A servant stood by his shoulder, a daring hand laid delicately on his shoulder. It took Thorin a moment to gain his bearings, and as he sat up he pulled a piece of his paperwork from his cheek, trying to ignore the look on servant's face. He knew that he had ink smeared there, thank you very much.

"Mmm, yea- yes, what is the issue?" Thorin said, clearing his voice because it was hoarse. "What's going on?"

"There are a great deal of meetings today with ambassadors discussing renovations and peace treaties, Milord, and I was aware that you had a late night; despite this, I wanted to inquire about breakfast."

Thorin stretched, gave a little cough, and passed a tired hand over his face. "Yes, thank you. Bring it in."

The manservant beamed. "Yes, Milord. Of course."

Thorin sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. A thought suddenly beamed itself into his brain, skyrocketing through his mind. He stood up abruptly, his chair clattering to the ground behind him. At the noise, the guards outside his door knocked and entered in a rush, axes in hand. Thorin waved them down, disregarding the chair.

"Fetch my manservant, tell him to forgo breakfast and come here as quick as possible," he commanded, and one of the guards nodded, exiting the room. Thorin dismissed the other with a wave of his hand and righted the chair, but found he couldn't sit down again and instead began to pace.

His manservant Kearon knocked quietly and entered, bowing low and standing straight, hands clasped behind his back. "Milord?" He inquired, and Thorin's gaze snapped up.

"You said that there were ambassadors here, correct?" At the servant's nod, Thorin continued hurriedly, "is Master Baggins needed at these negotiations?"

Kearon's face scrunched a moment, and Thorin could have throttled the young dwarf. After a moment, he shook his head. "No, Milord. He's not. I remember; I asked."

Thorin let out a breath of relief. "Thank Mahal." He didn't have to see the haunted look in those hazel eyes, the lingering solemn gaze trailed on his own face, as if asking for Thorin to look at the smaller creature- but he couldn't, not after what he'd done-

And now he didn't have the elfin face studying him all throughout a meeting, able to actually concentrate on what he was discussing and not the sad expression on his burglar.

So wrapped up in this, he completely missed the fact that he had approved Bilbo going with his nephews yesterday morning, and it had been nearly a full twenty four hours from the time he'd seen any of them.

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His arms were thrown out to sides to catch himself- reeling, he was falling, he could see his mother, his life, he was going to die-

"KILI!"

Suddenly, he was yanked backwards and landed painfully against a firm chest, and through the clothing, he could feel the frantic pounding of Fili's own heart. It matched his own. "F-Fili?!"

"Yes, you clot," Fili choked, falling backwards and leaning against the wall, his brother still in his arms. "For Mahal's sake, Kili, you rockhead. Mahal. Oh, Mahal." Fili's arms tightened, and Kili exhaled, trying to slow the racing of his pulse. He took a few deep breaths, and he could feel Fili trying to do the same.

It took many more moments for the two of them to both be fully composed, Fili finally releasing his younger brother. It was only then that Kili realized the light had been thrown and doused when Fili had thrown it, and although dwarrow eyes were accustomed to darkness, this blackness was chilling, almost like it had intended for Kili to trip and disguise the fall that surely would have sent him to his death.

But the thing was...it definitely felt like someone grabbed his foot and yanked, not like he careened over a rock or bulge in the mountain floor.

Kili swallowed, feeling a shiver dance its way up his spine. "Fili," he said, completely serious, and Fili turned towards him."I think these halls are haunted."

* * *

Bilbo clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply for the fifth time into his hands, trying to warm them. The temperature had dropped around twenty degrees in the time he'd been down in the chasm, and he was chilled to his very bones. He shuddered as another gust of wind- that seemingly came from nowhere- ripped at his clothes, moaning things. Bilbo clapped his hands over his ears. He didn't want to hear their cries for help. It was almost like the mountain had kept all their sobs to itself and now, in the presence of others, showed what they had gone through.

He didn't- he couldn't-

_Suspended high above the crowds below, Bilbo's eyes are wide and he claws at his neck; he has no oxygen, none, nothing left anymore- Thorin should just let him go, just let him fall, let him be done with this torment-_

He shook his head, clearing away the thoughts and trying to come up with some other memories. Everything he did manage to remember, though, had to do with the Company, and he hadn't seen them in forever. Most of them probably didn't even know he was missing.

_The look on Thorin's face after his whispered, "not our only hope" and Bilbo had arrived, just like Thorin knew-_

He let out a frustrated scream, the hoarse yell echoing in the dark. Hot tears spilled from his cheeks. How long had he been here, alone, in the cold? It felt like days, but it could have been mere hours. He didn't know.

He could feel his hands shaking even now, and tightened them into fists, hoping they would stop. The trembling only seemed to increase, though, so Bilbo slumped, just giving up at the moment.

His stomach gave a low groan, and Bilbo let out a sob. He was just too tired and too cold to deal with anything right now. Maybe a drink of water will help, Bilbo decided dubiously, and, turning his body, he hesitantly licked the damp wall. The water tasted like metal and dirt, but Bilbo didn't care; his throat was so parched. He licked until he was a little more satisfied than before and sat back, brushing his curls from his face.

What to do when trapped on the side of a cliff Eru knew how far down?

If lack of sunlight didn't kill him, boredom certainly would.

Bilbo, at a stroke of inspiration, began to hum a little tune. When he found he had developed it enough, he began to whistle it, and it bounced off the cavern walls.

Doing this for an immeasurable amount of time, he began muttering to himself, counting the words and verses on his fingers as he tapped them against the ground in time with his beat.

When he was finally content with his lyrics, he opened his mouth and sang:

_Roads go ever on and on_

_Over rock and under tree_

_By caves where never sun has shone_

He took a deep breath, glancing up. Still no light.

_By streams that never find the sea_

_Over snow by winter sown_

_And through the merry flowers of June_

_Over grass and over stone_

_And under mountains in the moon_

He paused, tapping his chin and doing his best to ignore the howl of the wind around him. Who knew windowless chasms could be so breezy?

_Roads go ever ever on_

_Under cloud and under star_

_Yet feet that wandering have gone_

He halted once again, trying to think of a good word that rhymed with 'star'.

_Turn at last to home afar_

_Eyes that fire and sword have seen_

_And horror...in...the halls of...stone…_

_Look...at _last_...on meadows green_

_And trees, and hills, they long have known._

Tapering off, the last of the lyrics echoing off the walls, he sat there motionless, frozen in place. He could feel it, in his chest; ice was lodging there, cold and unforgiving. He lifted a hand, gently running his fingers through his curls. They already felt a little like straw, oily and dry at the same time and completely unhealthy. Licking his lips, they were chapped beyond belief, and Bilbo knew that it wasn't because of the lack of water. He didn't dare wonder what his skin looked like.

He was wilting like a flower- actually wilting.

Not for the first time since he had fallen, Bilbo wished for the sun.

* * *

_**So that's my take on how that song came about. Thank you for reading, and leave me a comment on your thoughts! Until next Tuesday!**_

_**BTW: I've been asked, and I'd love to see fan art for any of my fanfiction, but if you could hash tag it as #Blackbandit111 or the story you're drawing/picture, I'd appreciate it. Thanks!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hello, my friends! I apologize for this post being a day late (life decided to be that person on line who can't decide what to get at a gift shop...) But here's the next chapter! Thanks to all of the reviews, favorites and follows! I'd feel pretty bad for poor Bilbo here, too. Disclaimer: I don't own. Just plotline. :) Enjoy the chapter!**_

* * *

"Haunted, Ki? Honestly?" It wasn't that Fili didn't believe in ghosts. He did, full heartedly and undeniably. It was just that Kili had one hell of an imagination and usually put it to use. Fili wouldn't put it past his mischievous brother to be playing a joke on him, even now, right after he nearly died. Kili tended to be a little ignorant to the ways of emotions, and if you were in the mood, it was a great quality- certainly helped with pranks.

Fili was not in the mood.

Kili, when he nodded, looked incredibly earnest. "Seriously, Fi- I'm not kidding, I swear. Mahal knows I would joke about ghosts." Kili brought a shaking hand to drag through his hair, and Fili shivered. He hadn't seen Kili so pale since he had nearly died in that dreadful battle, nearly three months back.

He gulped, nodding. "Okay, Ki. You're serious. I believe you." He stared around at the darkness at the edges, narrowing his eyes. "Real question: Which way is out?"

Kili jumped, glancing about. His eyes grew wide as he turned back to his brother. "Um…"

**...**

Bilbo sucked in a breath, trembling. His eyes darted around in the dark, twisted shapes leering at him through the shadows, though he was confident that it was his imagination. Still, the shrieks of goblins and the roars of a deceased dragon made him clamp icy fingers over his ears firmly, trying to block out the echoes. He rocked, his legs folded under him.

"Not real, not real, not real," he muttered under his breath, but he couldn't hear himself over the noises of the armies that were currently engaged in battle.

Squeezing his eyes shut didn't make much of a difference, for the darkness was in his mind just as much as it was around him. He took in shuddering breaths, trying to calm the frantic beat of his heart.

_Fili and Kili lie motionless on the ground, chests all too still;; he stumbles atop them and manages to shield them with his own body, far smaller and slimmer but stalwart all the same in the want to protect- he's being pried off them- no no no those are his boys he can't leave them they're family and he can't no no no-_

He let out a choked sob, yelling into the darkness. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" He screamed, hoping that Eru may be listening and give him something; anything. "I'LL DO ANYTHING!"

Of course, there was no answer.

But Bilbo liked to believe he felt the sun warming his back instead of the damp stone for just a moment.

**...**

"No," Thorin repeated for the perhaps the hundredth time that morning, squeezing the bridge of his nose, "we can't simply cut off the supply of provisions being sent to Laketown. It's not right."

The dwarf from the Iron Hills bristled. "That's our supplies your sending out!"

"And those are our allies that we would be betraying," Thorin growled, low enough to send shudders dancing along the other dwarf's spine.

"King Thorin-"

"This is non-negotiable," Thorin interrupted, and Hallin fell silent. "The dragon that lusted our gold has destroyed their city; the dragon that they killed so we could take back our homeland. Would you be so cruel?"

Hallin shifted, and Thorin knew he had hit a soft point. "They have women and children just as we do. You well remember the feeling of losing a home. Would you wish it upon others? Would you give others the treatment we received when we were tired, lost, and hungry?"

Hallin was now visibly squirming in his seat, but Thorin felt he had to drive his point. "Would you allow others to lose their wives, Hallin? Their children? They've lost their livelihoods and their houses. Would you send them to death?"

"Alright!" Hallin snapped, and Thorin tried to hide his smirk as Hallin recomposed himself. "I am not a cruel dwarf, King Thorin. You know this. But we only have so many provisions…"

Thorin smiled, but it was very wolfish. "The winter is coming to a close and spring has just begun to kiss the flowers," he said. "Do not lose such faith in Mahal's wisdom."  
Hallin opened his mouth as if to argue, but after a short pause, closed it again. Thorin outwardly permitted his smirk as the dwarf gathered his unsigned paperwork up and left the room.

Thorin cleared his throat. "How many more must I see today?" He asked of his guard, who looked back with a sympathetic air about him.

"Around ninety, Milord."

Thorin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a right position. Damn these chairs…

"Alright. Send the next one in." He paused. "And please, find me some other thing to sit in."

**...**

He was cold. So terribly, terribly cold. He couldn't think, he...he...Maybe he could climb...but wait, his arms weren't moving...that...might be a problem, but he couldn't bring himself...to quite….care…

_He's limp and can't move, but that's okay, because the sun is above him and the grass is soft and he can breathe in the sweet air and not worry about anything…_

And he closed his eyes.

**...**

"Enter."

The door opened, and a guard guided his two nephews in to sit down. Both were sporting multiple bruises and many cuts, and their faces were white as sheet. Thorin was on his feet in a moment.

"Fili! Kili! Mahal, what's happened?" Thorin demanded, guiding his nephews to the seats by his desk. They sank into them greatly, gripping on another like they were the only ones anchored to the earth, and without a good hold, they'd float away.

"M-mineshafts," Fili spoke, looking up at Thorin through tangled hair. His eyes were filled with tears. "H-haunted. Ghosts. Everywhere, ghosts."  
Kili nodded wordlessly, but he too was on the verge of tears. Thorin felt his heart seize.

His nephews were jokers. It was in their blood. Vili, their father, had been a rather serious man, but once you got to know Dis everything you thought you were safe with was fair game. She was a world class prankster in her time, always waiting around corners to jump out at you and devising elaborate plans. Her boys had, unfortunately, inherited this ability.

Thorin knew what his nephews looked like when they were joking.

They weren't. At all.

Kili gave a shaky laugh, bringing a hand to his head. "At least Bilbo got out safe…" He mumbled, and Thorin felt his blood run cold.

"Bilbo?" He inquired. "Why, what's happened to Bilbo?"

Fili's brows furrowed. "Well," he said, sharing a glance with Kili, who looked equally bemused, "he- he said the air was getting too thick and he couldn't breath, and that he was heading back up-"

Thorin rushed to the door, throwing it open. "You," he shouted at a guard down the hall, "check the rooms of Bilbo Baggins; if he's not there, I want you to come to me immediately. Make haste!"

The guard, nodding fervently, raced off, and Thorin slammed the door.

"The hobbit to my knowledge has not returned," he told his nephews, who paled further that they almost appeared dead. They both swallowed and shuddered.

"You don't know, Uncle," Fili said earnestly, "you don't know what's down there- there's moaning and wind and- and all sorts of terrible things-"

"What if he's trapped?"

Fili paused, his eyes turning to his brother. Kili's face was blank, and his voice was flat. "What?" Fili said.

"What if Bilbo is trapped," Kili repeated. His eyes were distant and unfocused. "Down there. Down in the mineshafts. What if he never made it out?"

Fili shook his head, summoning a small smile of disbelief. "You can't honestly believe that, Ki," he said, putting an arm around his younger brother. Kili didn't respond. "Bilbo's fine, probably eating- Mahal, probably eating one of those crazy meals of his- and sorting his handkerchiefs. You can't possibly believe-"

"Milord!" The guard burst through the door, breathless. His eyes were wide. "The hobbit is gone!"

And Thorin swore that his heart stopped.

* * *

_**Personally, I feel bad for Thorin here. Next chapter: what happened to Fili and Kili down there? Any theories? I'd love to hear them. Who do you think has it worst? Thank you for reading and please leave me a comment on your thoughts! Constructive criticism is always appreciated!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hello, crazy viewers! Sorry this is late- finals week dawned quickly and snuck up on me and then life got in the way, but I'm back! Thank you for your interesting responses, it was fun to see the reactions from you guys about Kili and Fili's experience. **_

_**Here's what actually happened...**_

* * *

"Which way is out?"

"Uh," Kili said, peering around. The darkness was all encompassing. "Good question, Fili. Let's try…"

There was a howl of wind from down the tunnel and a shriek to accompany it. Kili flinched and grabbed Fili by the arm, who leaned forward towards the sound. His eyes narrowed. "Hello?" He called. "Is anyone there?"

Another scream, followed by at least a dozen of younger sounding shrieks. Children. "Fili, there are children down here," Kili exclaimed, launching himself forward. Fili snatched the back of Kili's tunic before he could take off, though, pulling him back.

"Wait!" He shouted, placing a hand on his younger brother's chest to hold him back. "Just wait and think for a moment. How long has Erebor been unpopulated?" Kili was silent. Fili pressed on. "Kili," he said gently, "provisions can last you a while. They can't last anyone that long. Not for a hundred years."

Kili, when he spoke, sounded tearful. "But...Fee…"

Fili sighed. "I know. But we have to-"

Another wail, followed by guttural screams in Khuzdul. Fili found himself trembling, Kili's fingers pinching in the sleeve of his tunic. His brother would never ask for tactile comfort outright, but this, holding his sleeve- it helped both of them.

Kili huddled closer, and Fili sighed, running a hand over his face. "I…" He shook his head, jaw clenching. "We need to get back to Uncle Thorin. Fast."

Kili nodded silently, meek. More than willing to follow his brother on this one. "Yeah." Another sob from around them, an unidentifiable source. Fili took a deep breath, chose a direction, and began walking.

The wind whirled and howled around them, pulling at hair and clothes and brushing cheeks, like a caress. Minutes passed in the not so quiet tunnels; there were scuffles, shouts, sometimes even footsteps. Their torches were failing them, the light dimming and re-igniting at irregular intervals. By that point, the two brothers were clinging to each other's hands tightly, fingers intertwined.

"We'll get through this, Kee," Fili would say.

"Yeah," Kili would half-heartedly agree, glancing about nervously.

They walked along, paling every time a new sound made itself known, growing green when the shrieks and screams would rise again and fall.

Kili let out a sob. "I want to go home," he muttered, burying his face in Fili's shoulder as another plea for help reached their ears. Fili's lips wobbled and his chin trembled, but he blinked away tears. Strong for his brother.

"I know. Me too. But we're almost out; I can feel it in my bones. Can't you?" He gave Kili a light shove, earning a small glare and a shake of the head.

"No," Kili mumbled.

Fili forced a laugh. "You always were the least talented of the two of us," he challenged, and Kili's eyes lit up. Give him a dangerous situation? Nope. Give him banter with it?

Yep.

They went back and forth, steadfastly ignoring the cries and sounds that erupted from all around them. They did anything to distract themselves- teased, argued. They didn't know how long they'd been in there and were feeling quite hungry by this point, but neither spoke about it and both knew that they didn't really feel willing to stop for a bite to eat.

Not with those...ghosts following them, anyhow.

All at once, their torches were doused and the tunnel was dark, and the wind and the screams and the torture stopped. Kili was pressed fully against his side. "Fee?" He whispered into the complete blackness, and Fili swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, Kee. Here." He didn't mention the fact that Kili still had his hand.

Kili let out an exhale. "What…?" He began shakily, when a small spark of ethereal light started from way down in the tunnel, growing steadily as the figure bathed in the white light grew larger. Came closer.

Kili whimpered and hid his face between his older brother's shoulder blades like he had when he was a small child and he thought Fili could protect him from anything, and although Fili was wary of this figure, something inside him told him not to be afraid. Told him he was safe.

The tunnel was soon glowing in this calming, warm but distant light, and Fili was reminded of the light of the stars. If he wasn't mistaken, the figure was taking shape...

The breath was stolen from his lungs, and at the stutter in inhale Kili looked up. His lips parted, but no sound came forth.

He had, of course, heard of him in stories from his mother and Thorin, often telling tales of adventures from their childhood best friend. Frerin, the amazing youngest sibling; Frerin, good at all and loved by many, friendly to everyone he came across; Frerin, brave and strong and one of the best people Thorin had ever known.

Frerin, standing in front of them, glowing like an angel.

Fili had never thought he'd looked so...young. Perhaps around he and Kili's age. His beard was fully grown out and braided accordingly to a Prince, but his eyes and face were soft, his jaw sharp but cheeks rounded with that small amount of puppy fat that Kili still had. His irises were the bluest blue that Fili had ever laid eyes on- bluer than Thorin's, if it was even possible- and his smile was warm and inviting.

His Uncle Frerin. He'd never even fathomed…

"Uncle Frerin," Kili breathed, and Frerin's smile grew. He was dressed in a dark blue tunic and fitting brown trousers, boot clad feet sturdy. He carried no weapons, and his hands were that of a blacksmith, like Thorin's. Fili couldn't understand why, and figured that axe swinging was the cause for callous.

Frerin gave them a nod, blinked calmly at them, and canted his head, like he was thinking about something. Fili knew that he needed not be afraid any more because his Uncle Frerin was here and wasn't going to let them come to harm.

Frerin offered them one last smile, then, turning walked in the direction he'd come.

"Wait!" Kili called, reaching out for his uncle. Frerin turned. "Where are you going?"

Frerin's lips gave a quirk, as if to say, 'where you'll follow'. Kili looked unconvinced, and Fili hadn't believed the ghost of his uncle could talk until it opened its mouth.

"Come, little ones. I will lead you to safety. The mines are unsteady, and you are lost and alone. Be not afraid. I will guide you."

His voice was like silk, not at all like Fili had imagined it when Thorin told his stories. Thorin always had a certain glimmer in his eye when talking about his little brother, like he was the only thing in the world…

Frerin turned again, and this time, both Fili and Kili followed.

They walked in silence a few minutes, the only sounds the shuffling of Fili and Kili's feet. Frerin's footsteps made no noise as he stepped gracefully along the dusty floor, his feet only just brushing the ground.

Kili tentatively broke the silence. "Uncle, those noises…what…?"  
Frerin turned to look at Kili, who had sidled up to him. "The voices of the deceased are not easily dissipated," he said, his eyes glittering down at his nephew. "Those were the voices of the dead, little one. They cannot harm you while I am here. Fear not, son of Vili. You are safe."

"People...dying?" Kili pressed on, and Frerin's sharp blue eyes stared into Kili's caramel brown. Kili averted his gaze.

"The noble dwarves who perished in the mountain," Frerin continued, his pace steady as Fili and Kili pulled up on either side of him. "Their souls will remain trapped here for eternity, should they not be put properly to rest." Frerin's gaze found theirs once again. "As will mine."  
Fili brows furrowed. "How do we put you to proper rest?" He asked, and Frerin smiled.

"You cannot."

"Then who can?" Kili pressed, and Frerin let out a laugh, something rich and deep and warm and that sounded just like Uncle Thorin, back when he was not so hard.

"No one, little one. It is something souls must find on their own." Frerin looked thoughtful a moment. "Perhaps...a peaceful funeral. Burials in the crypts. Nothing relating to such a violent death. They are, after all, pleading for help."

"They stopped when you came," Fili murmured.

Frerin nodded. "They do. It is out of respect more than anything for my title and my friendships with them, nothing more. I do not have a further power over them."

Kili looked confused. "But...you're a king?"

Frerin laughed once again, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "So I am. But everyone is equal in death, Kili. It matters not the status of one being over another. I am equal to rock and animal and peasant."

"Orcs?" Fili questioned, lips curling.

"I know no orcs. I have died with none, therefore I come across none."

"And you showed up," Kili said. "None of the other...spirits...did that."

Frerin grinned. "Uncle privileges," he winked, and Fili wondered if he was pretending to be so regal and this was truly Frerin. Playful. Young.

Died too soon, his mother was always saying.

Fili's smile faltered. "Will you…Will Thorin be able to see you?"

Frerin's smile slipped from his face, and for the first time he appeared solemn. "I cannot go that far with you, little one," he said. "Lighted ways and gentle wind are not where I am meant to be. I must guide my people to rest, first. Then so may I."

"Wait," Kili said. "So that whole "going into the light"...That's real?"

Frerin gave him an indulgent smile. "Not in the sense you are thinking, little one, but yes. Should spirits approach light or go too far from where they are meant to be, they fade." His smile fell. "I would like to fade. I am tired, Kili." He admitted quietly. "I would be set free should I go too far, and that is something I am not willing to do."

"Be happy?" Fili questioned, and Frerin turned his blue gaze to his other nephew.

"Leave my people alone," he answered.

Fili had no reply.

They walked once more in silence, Fili and Kili mustering up the courage to eat something light as Frerin acted as their protector. They walked until their feet were sore and aching, and only then did Fili realized how little sleep he'd had in the past few days. In the warmth and secureness of Frerin's presence, he caught Kili yawning.

Frerin must have seen this also. "Lay down your weary heads," he told them. "I will keep you safe and guide you through your sleep. Close your eyes, now, and rest. I will keep watch."

And with Frerin's warm, comforting energy surrounding him, Fili shut his eyes.

When they had woken and eaten something the next day (or what they could assume was the next day) they continued on, trekking through tunnels as Frerin fended off the dark. All too soon, they came to a familiar opening. They were exiting the lower shafts.

Frerin took a deep breath, smiling at them once more. "And here is where we part. I can go no further. Tell your uncle all that has happened; he will understand." He paused. "Be safe, my nephews. I cannot tell you what lies ahead, but I can warn you of what has already occurred."

Alarmed, Fili blinked. "Wait, what's happened?"

Frerin looked grave. "Your halfling friend carries a secret that he is currently carrying to his grave. He has slipped and fallen, but I cannot say where. He is trapped, alone, injured, and dying. He has nearly given up his soul to the darkness that plagues these impure shafts, and he has little time. Gather a search party. Go looking. Find him before it is too late. Should he die here, his soul shall be trapped." He paused, waiting. When they frantically nodded their heads to show they understand, Frerin turned.

"Wait!" Kili called, and Frerin looked back at them. "Why are all these souls trapped here in the first place?"

Frerin looked grim. "It is because they have no where else to go, little one," he responded quietly. "They are stuck in an endless loop of death and destruction. The Darkness…" He faltered. "Is trying to swallow their light. It eats away at anything pure. It is like a poison."

"But why is it here?!" Fili demanded.

"I know not why. I suspect because of all of the terrible things that have happened here, for such terrible reasons." He took a deep breath. "Gold lust and dragon fire. I believe that is enough to make any place desolate."

He turned. "Remember: Tell Thorin all you've seen. Your hobbit friend hasn't much time."

Then he was gone and, frantic, they raced from the tunnels, minds spinning with all they'd discovered.

* * *

_**There we go. A whole chap dedicated to Fili and Kili's experience in the tunnels. I wanted to give their uncle a different infliction in his voice- older, more regal. Did I do it well? What do you guys think will happen? WILL THEY FIND BILBO IN TIME?**_

_**Tune in next week to find out! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it, and please leave me a comment on your thoughts!**_


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